Things I Regret
by Jane88
Summary: Post 8x06 "Southern Comfort" - Hurt by Dean's harsh words in the aftermath, Sam's not watching his step... with disastrous consequences. Hurt!Sam, big brother!Dean, warning inside!


Already wrote this story months ago... I wasn't sure if I wanted to post it. And I always planned to write a second chapter first before posting at all. Well, I just had a look at it today again and decided I don't wanna keep it from you any longer. :) So... have fun reading I guess!

**Just a little warning:** it's a bit dark, contains some pretty intense hurt and... forgive me... sexual assault. So if you don't like, don't read. But nothing too graphic. You've been warned!

Off you go now! And please tell me what you think of it... cause I'm still not sure if it's any good.

Story is set post 8x06 "Southern Comfort".

**Things**** I regret**

"_Everything you've ever done since you climbed into my ride has been to deceive me."_

His brother's voice rang in his ears and he couldn't turn it off. Even the blaring rock music or the bawling of the biker's gang next to him at the counter couldn't drown out his brother's words. Words that cut deeper and deeper the more he listened to it.

"_I might have lied but I never once betrayed you. I never once left you to die."_

He looked at his shot with glassy eyes, fingers trailing along the rim. Did Dean really think he'd left him to die? That he wouldn't have burst open the gates of Purgatory and jumped right in behind him if he'd just known…

"_He left me to rot in Purgatory!"_

He hadn't known. He'd thought his brother had died. He'd truly believed Dean might be in heaven. Sitting at a table with their mum and dad, enjoying her self-made pie. Strolling down happy memory lane, not having to worry about fucked-up destinies or the world trying to end itself again.

"_Benny_ _has been more of a brother to me this past year than you've ever been!"_

Dean was right. He was a piss-poor excuse for a brother. He should've looked more closely. Shouldn't have believed a word Crowley had said. It was on him that Dean had to trust a vampire to pull him out of this shithole. Cause his own brother was too drunk with self-pity and desperation to realize that demons would always remain the same lying bitches they are.

Sam downed his glass in one go, shuddering at the end. He'd never liked the heavy stuff, compared to Dean. He looked across the bar and watched his brother whispering in a hot blond's ear, the waitress practically sitting on his lap.

He wasn't sure why he'd decided to accompany Dean to the bar in the first place. The silence between them was slowly killing him, giving him too much time to remember, to think about what had happened. They'd been driving almost non-stop after they'd left Kearney, just stopping shortly for gas and take-away food. Sam's back had cramped up after a few hours, still sore from his crash into the table. He'd asked Dean to make a stop but had been ignored, his eyes never leaving the road, Metallica cranked up.

When Dean had asked him to hit a bar after they'd checked in the run-down motel in the middle of nowhere, his hopes had been raised. Hopes to finally warm up their frosty atmosphere, once they'd had a drink each and Dean a woman to attract. How wrong he'd been…

Sam ordered another shot, not waiting to toss it down like the last… five?! He eyed the empty glasses in front of him, feeling strangely detached. Dean would be proud of him, finally trading the beer up. But his brother was enveloped in the blonds arms by now, their lips crushed together, hands groping where they probably shouldn't in public. He definitely didn't notice his little brother finally "being a man" like Dean would say.

Sam sighed and decided to call it a night. He threw down a few bills onto the counter, not waiting for the change and stumbled out of the bar hastily.

An icy wind blew down the street and he shivered in his thin shirt. He hadn't thought about bringing a jacket, expecting to leave the bar with Dean and driving the few blocks back to their motel. But his brother obviously didn't plan to hit the road anytime soon.

Sam hugged himself and walked down the street. The fresh air helped him stifling the nausea that had started to creep up his throat. He fished his phone out of his pocket, finding his brother's name automatically. His finger hovered over the "call" button while Dean's words rang in his ears over and over, slowly ripping his heart out.

Dean always tended to worry about him when he disappeared without a word or a message. _Had_ worried in the past… before Purgatory… before he'd let his brother down…_ again_. This time he'd probably messed up for good. No one could forgive so many mistakes, not even Dean.

His breath hitched… His brother wouldn't care, he was sure of it. This knowledge, this certainty… it hurt the most!

Sam tucked away his phone and turned around a corner, head down and still lost in his dark thoughts when he bumped into someone. Still unsteady on his feet, he couldn't help himself from stumbling a few feet backwards, arms flailing before a strong hand wrapped around his wrist and stopped him from going down. He looked up and came face to face with a grim-looking guy, surprisingly as tall as him with a grotesque scull tattoo covering the left half of his face. Certainly not someone you wanted to mess with.

"Sorry! Wasn't looking ahead." Sam mumbled, trying to shake his wrist loose.

But Grim-Face didn't seem to accept the apology, not relaxing his firm grasp at all. Sam's head whipped around when he heard footsteps behind him. Another two men were approaching, steel-capped boots clattering along the paving, black leather pants and jackets unmistakably revealing them as bikers. Probably the ones that had been sitting next to him in the bar. They must have followed him the entire time and he hadn't even noticed.

"Whoa guys, I was just heading home, don't want any trouble here."

The grip on his wrist tightened painfully, surely would bruise later. Grim-Face started to laugh, the others watching him with a bemused look as he squirmed.

"Just your luck that we're looking for trouble." One of the bikers chuckled, eyes fixing him like a predator just waiting to jump and attack.

"We had an eye on you in that bar. Looked like your boyfriend tossed you aside for this hot waitress."

_What the hell?!_

"Tried to drown yourself in liquor there, right?! A handsome guy like you shouldn't have to shed a tear over anybody."

God, just his Winchester luck to stumble across such sickos. Sam narrowed his eyes.

"He's my brother. Not that it's any of your business… Now you better let me go!"

Grim-Face grinned, obviously not taking the threat seriously. He pulled Sam nearer so that they were face to face, his foul breath bringing back his nausea.

"Yeah, right… You can't fool me. I just wanna give you what he obviously won't tonight."

Okay, that's it. Sam brought up his knee between his opponent's legs, cheering inwardly when the face in front of him contorted with pain. The biker let go of his wrist while he sank to the ground with a moan. Sam turned around in time to see a fist flying his way. He ducked and rammed his elbow in the man's chest, shoving him backwards into his oncoming friend. The fast movement made his head spin wildly, alcohol in his blood still a bitch. Time to hightail it.

Sam ran without looking back, ignoring the groans and angry shouts from behind. He just hoped to have taken out the mob long enough to get a good headstart. Even as a trained hunter, he doubted he'd have a chance against three full grown pissed off bikers. He turned right, heading down a deserted alley that would lead to the main street where he hoped would still be people around this hour.

He took his phone out while panting frantically, fear sinking into his bones. His brother's number was still on the screen and he managed to press the call button with shaking fingers just before pain started to explode at the back of his head. Sam pitched forward, hitting the pavement hard, pebbles digging into his hands as he tried to break his fall. His phone slid out of his hand, coming to a stop a few feet away. Cheering shouts behind him broke through the ringing in his ears. Something wet trickled down his neck as he tried to get up again with shaky legs. He was still on one knee when a heavy boot rammed into his back, sending him sprawling again. Fingers sank into his hair and pulled roughly, bending his neck painfully while the boot on his back didn't budge, preventing him from moving at all.

A voice whispered into his ear. "We wanted to play nice but you're giving us no other choice."

The pressure on his back increased, the steel-cap digging relentlessly into his left kidney. Sam couldn't suppress the cry of pain while his already bruised back was further tormented.

His arms were seized and roughly secured behind him. The grip in his hair loosened and Sam started to struggle with new force, not accepting to be caught by mere men. He was a Winchester after all, has fought all kinds of evil, stopped the world from smiting itself so many times. He even went to hell and back, literally. But when his legs were kicked apart and a hand groped between his legs, touching him through his jeans, he knew that despite all his good deeds, God still didn't seem to believe that he'd suffered enough to redeem himself.

"No... no, don't..." Sam stammered, his voice shaking with fear.

"Oh yes, my pretty boy. We're just getting started."

His chin was grabbed firmly, his head turned to the side and he only had a second to recognize the foul smell from before when lips were crushing his mercilessly. A tongue forced its way into his mouth, making him gag. Sam tried to pull back but there was nowhere to go. He started to panic, he had to fight. So he did the only thing he could right now: biting the asshole who decided to use his mouth as a chewing gum. Sam was satisfied when the biker howled like a dog. His head was released and he could take a full breath again.

Not waiting any longer, he screamed for help as loudly as he could, praying that anyone would hear him. But his voice was cut short by a hand that clamped over his mouth.

"You little fucker, you'll pay for this! Shut him up!"

A rag replaced the hand, cutting into the corner of his mouth painfully when it was tightened up. Sam sobbed, wishing his brother would be here to kick those bastard's asses. He remembered his phone and searched with his eyes for it, spotting it only a few feet away beneath a container. The light was still turned on. Did it connect before he was tackled to the ground?

"D'n!" His call for his brother was muffled and he stared at the phone as if Dean could jump out of it at any moment and save him like he'd done all his life. But his big brother was still at the bar, likely already in bed with the blonde waitress, oblivious to his little brother's despair.

Sam was hoisted up suddenly, the abrupt change making his head spin and his vision blur. He heard the faint laughter of his tormentors as he was shoved forcefully against a brick wall, his head hitting it with a crack. He vision turned black for a second. He faintly noticed someone pressing against his back while his hands were lifted over his head and tied up. He glanced upwards, shocked to see wire securing his wrists to an iron bar in the wall. Sam tugged at it, trying to get loose but the wire only chafed his skin. The movement behind him stilled and the hands keeping him in place left.

He stood against the wall, strung-out like a fish, tremors wracking his body. Sam tried to look over his shoulder, anxious that he couldn't see his attackers. But the motion was driving nails into his skull, blinding him, the hammering in his head reaching a climax. Bile was creeping up his throat and he had to suppress the need to gag. Throwing up now would be the end of him.

"So nicely tight up for us… Should we teach him a lesson, boys?" Sardonic laughter cut through the silent night.

Sam was breathing heavily and closed his eyes, willing himself to wake up in the hopes that all this was just a nightmare. He jumped when hands touched his buttocks and a cold voice whispered in his ear. "Such a sweet ass… You're going to pay dearly for biting me, you little shit!"

A hand groped for his belt, ignoring his grunts of disgust while the other held his hip in a crushing grip. Sam tried to kick his tormentor but only hit air when the guy sidestepped. He was kicked in the hollow of his knees which immediately caved in. He would've collapsed but the wire held his weight in a cruel manner, skin tearing open. He felt warm blood trickling down his arms, his wrists burning with agony. But pain he was used to, pain he'd dealt with a thousand times.

The hot and rancid breath at his neck though, the rough hand digging into his pants, the unmistakable erection rubbing against him as the man pressed him into the wall – that's what made him panic, made him scream in his mind, begging to God for mercy. But God didn't care, nobody seemed to care that he was about to be raped and used by these assholes. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, a muffled sob escaping him despite his will not to show any weakness. Cause he was reacting to the unwanted touches and he couldn't stop it, was powerless in his own body…

A deafening shot broke the silence of the night.

It reverberated in the dark alley, followed by a piercing scream. Sam jumped. The hands touching him stopped while the weight pinning him to the brick wall remained. Sam was a shivering mess, the terror from the assault wrecking his body. His head was pressed against the cold stone, turned away from where the gun had gone off. He couldn't see what had happened. He wasn't hit, of that he was sure though.

"Step away from my brother, you son of a bitch!"

Sam sobbed at hearing the deep growl of Dean's voice. He tried to turn his head, wanting to see for himself, not sure if he could trust his ears, if his messed up mind wasn't playing any tricks on him in his desperation. But his tormentor didn't seem to be impressed by Dean's thread, not stepping away from him at all but actually increasing the pressure on his back. His elbows were digging into Sam's already bruised kidney, making him whimper.

"So the little fucker told the truth after all. You're his brother." The voice behind him was calm, not showing any fear despite the gun Dean had probably leveled at him.

"_Big_ brother." Dean corrected in a dangerous tone. "And you'll take your filthy hands off my little brother right now or I'll blow your head off!"

The rough hand inside his pants was removed and Sam heaved a sigh of relief, relaxing a bit. But his hope was cut short by a knife suddenly pressing into the sensitive skin on his neck. He was forcefully spun around, agony shooting from his shoulders up to his still bound hands, making his legs wobbly and black dots dance in front of his eyes.

"Sammy!"

Dean's voice was filled with fear and rage. The familiar name helped him fight the oncoming unconsciousness. It took him a few seconds till his vision cleared. His brother was standing only a dozen feet away gun raised high, eyes fixed on the knife glinting in the streetlights. One of his attackers was lying on the ground, whimpering as he tried to put pressure on a bloody wound on his thigh. The third biker was at his friend's side, eyes darting between the two opponents, not daring to move.

"Put the gun down or I'll slit your brother's pretty throat before you can even blink!" A hand buried in his hair and pulled his head back with such force that Sam could feel hair and scalp being ripped out. The sharp blade felt ice cold in contrast to the line of fire it left when it was pressed into his skin. Sam held his breath, not daring to swallow or move an inch. His eyes sought out Dean's, knowing that they had to react fast and in sync. Their gazes met. His brother blinked almost unnoticed, Sam closed his eyes for a second to show that he was ready. Dean lowered his gun and raised his hand in a calming manner.

"Woah, easy there big guy! I'll do it, just… don't hurt him!" His brother sank to the ground slowly and placed the gun on the pavement, eyes never leaving Sam's, pleading to hold on just a second longer. There was a moment when Dean stood tall again that Sam felt the pressure on his neck lessen and the grip in his hair slacken. He took a deep breath and used all his remaining strength to kick out with his foot, hitting the biker's shin with the heel of his boot.

His tormentor grunted in pain and stumbled. Sam swerved sideways, hitting the brick wall hard, pain exploding in his head. He heard his attacker howl in agony, followed by the thump of a body.

Sam breathed heavily, forehead resting against the cold wall to stop the world from spinning wildly before he turned around and lowered his gaze. Dean's army knife was sticking out of the man's chest, shirt already saturated and blood forming a puddle on the ground while the biker didn't move at all, unconscious or even dead. Sam watched the blood make its way towards him, fascinated by the trickles finding a way through the cracks in the street. He felt detached, not really comprehending what had just happened, oblivious to the grunts and blows next to him.

His vision blurred and his legs shook, not holding his weight any longer. Suddenly hands were on him, cautious and gentle, an arm wrapped around his waist to keep him from collapsing and ripping his wrists even more. Fingers were touching his cheek, holding up his head that felt way too heavy by now. Sam tried to focus on the face in front of him, a smile forming on his cracked lips when worried green eyes stared back. He'd recognize those eyes anywhere.

"D'n…" It was merely a whisper but his brother smiled back, brushing away a lonely tear running down his cheek.

"I got you, Sammy!"

**TBC… I guess...**


End file.
